"Don't eat that" I whispered behind his back.
He just grinned. Scottish shortbread is one of the best things on earth - how can you not. "Why not?" he said.
"Because we just took a very good and very long walk, and you already ate that giant square of Scottish Tablet, and yogurt and Cheerios, and M&M's, and you're going to be bitching about how you don't feel well because you've been snacking so much. And because you told me to help you eat less junk food."
Bob picked up the dark chocolate bar on the counter and broke off a piece. He put it on top of the shortbread and held it up to my mouth. I ate it.
Bob is evil.